


Midnight Spells Trouble

by orderlychaos



Series: The Adventures of Wizard!Clint [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint needs a break, Cuddles, Fluff, He's a bit of a mess, M/M, Vampires, tracksuit draculas, wizard!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Bro, we’re thinking you didn’t understand out last warning.  This is our part of the city, bro.  Not a place for wizards.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Vampires, man.  Most of them were a hell of a lot less cool than the movies made them out to be.  They also had way worse dress sense.</em>
</p><p>All Clint wanted to do was go home and nap.  Only, the Tracksuit Draculas don't agree.  When Phil saves him from their clutches, Clint learns a few things about his new boyfriend and finds a place to hide for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Spells Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I have finally finished a fic! Sorry this installment has taken so long, but I've been messing with some longfics and they've been taking up a lot of my time over the last few months. But at least this one is done now, right?

_Tao of Hawkeye #18: Vampires don’t sparkle._

 

Clint Barton was halfway home before he noticed he was being followed.  Resentfully, he blamed that on yet another unproductive night of doing the Council’s bidding.  After all the running around he’d been doing, he was so drained and exhausted he could barely see straight.  Naturally, that was the moment the universe decided to fuck with him some more.  Clint cursed silently at the scuff of a shoe behind him.  He wanted to send a fireball -- or five -- flying, but fireballs weren’t exactly discreet.  The Council had been on his ass enough lately, thanks.  Besides, Clint was running on empty.  He’d probably be lucky if he could even conjure a spark, let alone an actual ball of flame.

The ring on Clint’s right index finger burned hot then turned to ice.   _Ah, shit._

Vampires.

And not the nice Natasha-kind.

Sliding his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, Clint curled his fingers around the hilt of one of his many knives.  A wizard he might have been, but Clint had learned a long time ago that sometimes magic didn’t work nearly as well as sharp steel.  With his other hand, Clint started weaving a protection spell as he muttered the Latin incantation under his breath.  With a mental sigh, Clint resigned himself to going to go home with bruises.  Again.

As Clint passed a narrow, dark alley, he felt two large hands shove him in the back.  He staggered to the left, sliding on the slushy snow, and almost rammed his knee into the nearby dumpster.  “Okay, now I’m pissed,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

Turning around, Clint eyed the five hulking figures now blocking his escape.  Getting thrown into the alley had forced Clint to let go of his spell, and the half-formed magic now skittered uncomfortably across his skin.  Not that the spell would have done any good anyway, considering who he was facing.  Clint would recognize those stupid-ass tracksuits anywhere.

“Bro, we’re thinking you didn’t understand out last warning.  This is our part of the city, bro.  Not a place for wizards.”

Vampires, man.  Most of them were a hell of a lot less cool than the movies made them out to be.  They also had way worse dress sense.

“You get our meaning, bro?” the leader pressed.

Clint glared.  “The only thing I’m getting right now is a headache,” he growled.

The lead vampire scowled, flashing fangs as his eyes burned red.  “That’s not very nice, bro.”

Straightening to his full height, Clint let a small sliver of power shine through his usual shields.  Clint had only dealt with this particular vampire gang a few times, and he was willing to bet they had no idea what kind of wizard they were dealing with.  These vampires weren’t exactly the sharpest fangs in the bunch.

Looking a little surprised that their prey wasn’t as weak as they were counting on, the vampires snarled a little, crowding forward.  Clint held his ground, carefully flipping open his knife and conjuring a little spellfire with his free hand.  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.  With the impatience Clint had come to expect from this particular gang, the vampires didn’t stand around threateningly for long.  The leader surged in, one of his giant fists aimed at Clint’s head.  “You think you can beat us, bro?” he snarled.

Clint dodged the punch, and slashed out with his knife, more to keep the vampire away from his neck than anything else.  The vampire cursed and staggered back, his buddies hissing behind him.  “Leave now,” Clint commanded, “and I won’t turn you and your friends into large piles of ash.”

The lead vampire -- and things would have been so much easier if Clint could call him by name -- snarled again.

Before Clint could throw his ball of spellfire, there was a shout from the mouth of the alley.  One of the vampire lackeys went crashing forward, and Clint felt his eyes widen at the shadowed figure of another man wading into the fight.  As Clint watched, the newcomer sent the vampire sprawling with an impressive kick to the head.  If the goon had been human, it probably would have knocked him out.

“Hey bro, you’re not welcome here,” the leader growled as the remaining vampires turned on the gate-crasher, snarling.  On the ground, the fifth vampire groaned and slowly pushed himself back to his feet.

Instead of fleeing like Clint had expected, the man stepped forward out of the shadows.  Clint sucked in a breath, barely stopping himself from blurting out Phil’s name in surprise.  What the hell was _Phil_ doing here?  And kicking vampires in the head?  The idea that Phil regularly went around rescuing people being mugged or worse made Clint’s heart skip a beat.  He just couldn’t work out if that was because he was scared of Phil getting hurt -- or because he was secretly a damsel in distress.

It was probably both.

Phil studied the vampires, his eyes hard and cold in a way Clint had never seen.  Despite the situation and the expression, Phil was a sight for sore eyes.  Clint had _missed_ him lately.  That was mostly the stupid Council’s fault, but also because Clint was really bad at calling.  Phil was dressed in a battered brown leather jacket and jeans, and for once wasn’t wearing his glasses.  He looked familiar and safe, and Clint kind of just wanted to rest in Phil’s strong arms for a moment.  Or an hour.

“I suggest you put away any weapons you may be carrying, and leave.   _Now_.”  Phil’s voice was calm and controlled, but held an undeniable note of steel.  It was the voice of a man you did not want to fuck with.  Clint shivered, his reaction completely inappropriate given that he was surrounded by vampires.

“We’re not leaving, bro,” the lead vampire said.

With the vampires distracted by Phil, Clint knew now was the moment to act.  Even if things would be more difficult with Phil watching.  (Potentially.  Clint would settle for just not falling on his face and looking like an idiot.)  Something deep in Clint’s chest warmed at Phil’s attempt to be heroic, even as his stomach clenched in fear.  Phil had no idea what he was dealing with.

What happened next happened so fast Clint only caught it in bursts.  One of the vampires surging towards Phil, fangs glinting.  Phil fighting back, his movements fluid and deadly.  The lead vampire reaching for Clint’s throat, shrieking as Clint set his stupid polyester tracksuit on fire.  Then, in a sudden heart-stopping moment, Phil was flying through the air and slamming into the alley wall with a terrifying thud.

“Phil!” Clint yelled.

Phil slumped to the ground and he wasn’t moving.  Adrenaline surging, Clint drew on a lifetime of fight training and the welling storm of anger and fear growing inside his chest.  He wanted _blood_.  Pivoting sharply, Clint swept one of his legs out in a vicious sweep, knocking one of the vampires to the ground.  The vampire howled as Clint’s ball of spellfire caught him in the chest.  Rising back up, Clint finished his spin with a hard kick aimed at another vampire’s jaw.  As he staggered back, Clint used the opportunity to throw his knife at the leader.  The vampire let out a howl of pain when it hit him in the shoulder, before he and the remains of the gang scattered.  Clint had no doubt that they’d be back, but for now they were gone and Clint was safe.

Racing towards Phil, Clint skidded on his knees, aware his breath wasn’t exactly even.  “Phil?” he whispered.  “Please be okay.   _Please_.”

He hovered his hand over Phil’s chest, not wanting to move Phil in case he was seriously hurt.  Thankfully, Phil groaned softly and sort of flopped onto his back on his own.  Clint let out a shuddering breath that was closer to a sob.  He slumped forward and muttered a quick thank you to the universe as Phil opened his beautiful blue eyes.  “Ow,” Phil hissed.

Carefully, Clint rested a hand on Phil’s chest when Phil looked like he was about to try to sit up.  “Easy,” he said softly.  “You might not want to do that.”

“Clint?” Phil asked, frowned as he blinked up at Clint.  “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Clint swallowed heavily, because _of course_ that was Phil’s first question.  “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Phil said, smiling slightly.  “For a minute there, you scared me.”

“Me?” Clint let out a choked laugh.  “I’m not the one who dived into a fight to help a stranger.”

Phil shrugged as much as he could while sprawled out on the ground.  Then, carefully, he attempted to sit up again, and this time Clint let him.  Clint bit his lip when Phil paused with a wince, but aside from a growing bruise on the side of his face, he didn’t appear injured.  When he was finally sitting up, Phil reached up a hand to his temple and winced again.

“Shit,” Clint muttered.  “You should probably see a doctor, or something.”

Phil grimaced wryly.  “I’ve had worse.”

Clint blinked, suddenly reminded of how fluidly Phil had fought the vampires.  “That’s not exactly comforting,” he said, wondering if he had the guts to ask Phil why he knew how to fight like that.  He pasted a teasing smile on his face.  “Get into fights a lot, do you?”

“Not often,” Phil replied.  He reached out to cover Clint’s fidgeting fingers.  “I really am fine, Clint.  Aside from a headache, anyway.”

“Oh,” Clint said.  “I might have something to help with that.”

He immediately started patting down his pockets, hoping the flask hadn’t been broken in the fight with the vampires.  Frowning, Clint pulled out a piece of parchment, a pouch that smelled like chamomile and something that could only be an uncharged crystal.  With a triumphant grin, Clint finally tugged out the flask.  “Here it is,” he said, offering it out to Phil.

Phil eyed it warily.  “And what is ‘it’?” he asked.

Clint attempted to look as reassuring as possible.  “My special headache removing… tonic.”  Calling it a potion probably wasn’t going to make Phil trust it any better.

Wincing again, Phil held out his hand.  “Do I want to know what’s in it?”

“Nothing bad,” Clint replied.  “I promise.”

Phil looked skeptical, but arching his eyebrow made him grimace.  Uncapping the flask, he hesitated, his gaze flicking up to Clint’s.

“It’s just a few herbs and things, I swear,” Clint told him.  “You only need a mouthful or so.”  If Clint’s magic potion couldn’t lessen Phil’s headache after that, Clint was taking him straight to the hospital.

Phil took a swig of the potion and immediately spluttered.  For a moment, Clint was vaguely insulted, because it didn’t taste that bad.  Then his eyes widened as he remembered exactly what he’d put in his latest batch.  “Ah…” he said.  “Shit.”

“Are you sure there’s something in here other than vodka?” Phil asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

Clint winced sheepishly as he took the flask back.  “Sorry,” he apologized.  “I mostly use it for hangovers, and a bit of hair of the dog usually helps.”

Shaking his head, Phil chuckled softly.  He blinked, a surprised smile spreading across his face.  “Vodka or not, that stuff is magic,” he said.  “My headache is almost gone already.”

Clint shrugged.  If only Phil knew the real truth in his words.  Rocking back on his heels, Clint offered Phil a hand.  “Come on,” he said.  “Let’s get you home.”

Phil let Clint pull him to his feet, and smiled.  “I’ll be okay on my own if you’ve got other places to be,” he said.

Raising both eyebrows, Clint stared at him for a beat.  “Phil, the only other place I have to be this close to dawn is my bed.”

“And I don’t want to keep you from it,” Phil replied.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “It would be pretty damn shitty to leave my knight-in-shining-armour standing alone in a dirty alley,” he said.  Plus, a large part of Clint wanted to make sure Phil got home safe.  With no further interruptions by polyester-loving vampires.

His mouth curving into a slight smile, Phil flicked his gaze down at his now scuffed and stained jeans, and then back up at Clint.

“Okay, knight-in-not-so-shining-denim,” Clint amended.  “The point still stands, Phil.  I’m not leaving you here.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed, smiling that almost-smile again.

Nodding once, Clint shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets.  “Okay.”

Phil tilted his head to the left.  “Come on, the shop’s this way.”

Catching the elusive scent of Phil’s cologne, Clint’s thoughts scattered for a moment.  “Right.  Sure,” he muttered.  And shit, you wouldn’t think he and Phil had already been on three dates, would you?

Falling into step beside Phil, Clint wracked his brain for something to say.  The air was tense and sort of awkward between them, and Clint missed the easy flirting of the last time he’d been at the coffee shop.  Maybe it was the late hour, but maybe it was the vampires and the fact that Clint’s life was one big hot mess right now.  Hell, _he_ was a big, hot mess.  He wouldn’t blame Phil in the slightest for not wanting to get in the middle of that.  Even if Phil was kind of stuck in the middle of everything already.

“Stop it,” Phil said, bumping Clint’s shoulder with his.

Clint glanced up at him, trying not to let his twist of guilt show on his face.  Phil had just swooped in trying to _save_ him.  Clint should be witty and charming, not dwelling on his insecurities like an idiot.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Phil just shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “I had a fair idea about your life before I agreed to date you, Clint,” he said softly.

Only, Phil didn’t.  Not really.  Stupid Council rules.

“But, ah…” Phil continued, his shoulders hunching slightly.  “There’s probably something I should have told you a bit earlier.”

Trying to ignore the sudden dread twisting his stomach, Clint nodded.  “You know you don’t have to, right?  Not if you don’t want to,” he said.  He could totally live with it if Phil didn’t want to tell him stuff.  He could.

(Besides, it couldn’t be worse than what his imagination was currently conjuring, could it?)

Phil huffed.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to make that sound as ominous as I did.”  He frowned.  “This might be easier to take about at my place.  If you don’t mind coming up?”

Clint pasted a smirk on his face.  “That is never a hardship, Phil,” he said.

For a second, Phil looked like he wanted to say something else, before he shook his head slightly.  They were almost at Phil’s place now, and when they turned the corner, _Bean There, Done That_ came into sight.  Clint was suddenly struck by how exhausted he was.  Curling up somewhere for a few hours, preferably right next to Phil, sounded like bliss.

“Come on,” Phil said quietly.  He nudged Clint, and it was only then that Clint noticed he’d stopped moving.

“Right, sorry,” he muttered.

Phil smiled wryly.  “You look like you could sleep for at least twelve hours,” he said.

Clint groaned before he could stop himself.  At the point, Clint didn’t even care where he got to nap, other than a sharp longing that Phil was there.  “Oh, Gods, can I?” he said.

Phil blinked.  “ _Of course_ you can, Clint,” he said.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Clint’s thoughts were getting increasingly muddled now that the adrenaline was wearing off.  One thing was still clear, though.  “No, wait,” he said, flailing a little as Phil guided him towards the stairs leading up to Phil’s apartment, and when had they got here?  Hadn’t they been outside a second ago?

He turned his head to blink blearily at Phil.  “You wanted to tell me something,” he said.

Phil nodded.  “I did,” he agreed.  “But that can wait until after you’ve slept.  Clint, you look like you’ve been running yourself ragged.”  That was worry creasing Phil’s forehead.  Clint had the sudden urge to smooth it away with his fingers.  “I’m sorry,” Phil added with a whisper.  “I’d take you back to your apartment, but I’m not sure you’d make the journey.”

Clint didn’t like it when Phil frowned unhappily like that.  It made him want to fix things.  Waving a hand absently, Clint leaned forward to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder.  Just for a second.  Phil had perfect shoulders for resting on.  “It’s okay,” he muttered into Phil’s jacket.  “You’re safe.  I trust you.”  Normally, Clint wasn’t one for such declarations, but the words felt incredibly important to get out.

“I trust you too, Clint,” Phil whispered into his hair.

Warmth spread through Clint’s chest.  “Come on,” Phil said, grabbing Clint around the waist with a strong arm.  “You can’t fall asleep like this.”

“I think you’ll find that I can,” Clint muttered.

His senses gave the now familiar tingle as he crossed Phil’s threshold.  He really had to ask about those wards, but maybe later.  Clint barely had the presence of mind to appreciate it when Phil started stripping him of his boots and jacket.  Draining his magic always hit Clint hard, and after the last few days, Clint was kind of surprised this hadn’t happened earlier.  The last thought Clint had was that it was nice to have someone else taking care of him, and then he was sinking down into darkness.

~*~

When Clint woke, sunlight was streaming in through the window to jab him _right in the eyes_.  Which was probably the reason he was now squinting blearily rather than still being blissfully asleep.  Groggily, it took Clint a moment to figure out why the window he was staring at was framed by actual curtains and a wall that wasn’t exposed brick.   _Phil_.  He’d fallen asleep escorting Phil home and now he was in Phil’s apartment.

Grunting, he rolled over, searching for the man himself.  He found Phil propped up against the headboard, sitting on top of the covers and dressed in a hoodie and worn jeans.  Clint wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Phil dressed so casually.  Phil had his glasses were perched on his nose as he read over something on his Stark-tab.  In the sunlight, the bruise on the side of Phil’s face was kind of an angry purple, reminding Clint of exactly what had happened last night.   _Stupid ass tracksuit Draculas_.

As he read, Phil stretched his toes, and for some reason, Clint found Phil’s bare feet entirely too distracting.  Squinting at Phil’s frown, Clint tried to wake up a little more.  “Is everything all right?” he asked, his voice still raspy with sleep.

Phil hummed distractedly before glancing away from his Stark-tab.  “What?  Oh.  It’s nothing,” he said.  “Ward’s just been missing a few shifts lately.  So far, Skye and Trip have been happy to cover them, but I’m worried something’s up with him.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Clint offered, because there was probably something he could do.  Even if he’d only spoken three words to Ward.   _Ever_.

Phil smiled.  “No, it’s my problem to deal with,” he said.  He paused, just smiling at Clint as his gaze moved over Clint’s face.  Clint really hoped there wasn’t drool on his chin, or that his hair wasn’t sticking up at odd angles.  “Good morning,” Phil said softly.

Clint had the immediate urge to burrow further down into the blankets and hide his face.  For _no logical reason whatsoever_.  “Morning,” he replied.

“Did you sleep well?” Phil asked, because he had manners, even after Clint had practically fallen asleep _on his shoulder_.  To be fair, it was a really nice shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replied, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth to make sure there was no drool.  “Um, sorry.  You know, for crashing on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Phil said.  “You clearly needed the sleep.  And I never mind taking care of you, Clint.”  He glanced down at his Stark-tab and swallowed.

With a start, Clint realized Phil was _nervous_.  Trying to wrangle his thoughts into coherence without coffee, Clint sat up.  “Hey, is this about what you wanted to tell me last night?”

“It is.”  Phil blew out a sigh and set aside his Stark-tab.  “It’s nothing awful.  I just don’t talk about it much.”  Phil shifted on the bed so he was facing Clint and offered Clint a smile.  “I should probably start at the beginning,” he said.  “You remember how I told you my grandfather was a hard man?”

Clint nodded, remembering Phil’s explanation from their first date.  “Well,” Phil said, his lips curving into a faint smirk.  “After my years of teenage delinquency, I joined the Army.  I was nineteen and a bit stupid, but it was… good.  I felt like I was finally doing something worthwhile with my life.  And what I was doing must have caught someone’s eye, because three years after that, I was selected for Ranger training.”

His lips twisted, but there was an undeniable pride to his smile.  Clint didn’t blame him.  Truthfully, he was kind of blown away, because kind, calm and slightly nerdy Phil Coulson was a badass Ranger.  Which probably explained the ease with which he’d fought off the tracksuit Draculas.  “Wow,” he said.  “That’s…”

Phil glanced away, although not like he was embarrassed.  More like he was trying to hide his expression.  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much,” he said.  “Most of what I did is classified.”

“No, I get it,” Clint rushed to assure him.  Hell, Clint was _really familiar_ with keeping secrets.  “I just…”  He trailed off with a grin, shrugging his shoulders.  “It explains why you were so badass last night.  Well, one of the reasons.”

Phil’s ears went pink.  “I’m not…” he denied.

“Yeah, you totally are,” Clint interrupted.  A thought struck him.  “So what were you doing out so late last night?  Were you out patrolling for bad guys like a superhero?”

Huffing out a laugh, Phil rolled his eyes.  “No,” he said.  “I met an old friend for a drink and time got away from us, that’s all.”

Clint raised both eyebrows and grinned.  “Would this be an old Army Ranger friend?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” Phil replied, eyeing Clint with amusement.  “He likes to check up on me occasionally.”

Clint smiled.  “Yeah, I have someone who does that too,” he said, thinking of Nick.  Then he blinked, because Phil might not take that the way he’d meant it.  “I mean…  Not that you…”

Phil’s eyes danced with laughter.  “It’s okay, Clint,” he said.  “I’m quite happy doing more than checking up on you.”

Clint ducked his head.  The combination of the words and the hint of heat in Phil’s gaze had Clint all too aware he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt.  In Phil’s bed.

“Sorry,” Phil said, although he didn’t sound particularly apologetic.  “I should probably stop and offer you coffee, shouldn’t I?”

While Clint would _never_ say no to coffee from Phil, he was also really liking the flirting thing.  “You could do both?” Clint said hopefully, glancing up through his lashes.  It usually worked on Natasha, and Clint was pleased when Phil had to swallow heavily.

Shit, _Natasha_.

She was going to murder him.  Painfully.

Phil had clearly sensed the change in mood, because he was watching Clint worriedly.  “Um,” Clint said.  “If you see an angry redhead burst in through the door, could you maybe tell her not to kill me?”

Phil’s face softened with silent laughter.  “Ah.  You were supposed to meet Natasha this morning,” he said.

Clint nodded.  “I’ve been a bit busy, and I promised to update her on a… case we’re working together, and when I don’t show up she’ll worry.  And then when she finds out I’m actually alive, she’ll get pissed and kill me.”

Phil looked like he was fighting a smile.  “I’ll go downstairs and check if either Trip or Skye have seen her,” he said.

“Thanks, Phil.”  Clint flopped back onto the bed and buried his face underneath a pillow.  “I’m just going to hide here, okay?”

Phil’s warm hand landed on Clint’s knee, and gave a reassuring squeeze.  “Hide here as long as you like,” he said, and then his soft footsteps were heading out the door.

Clint sighed.  He pulled the pillow off his face and stared up at Phil’s ceiling.  When was he ever going to learn that doing favours for the Council only ever ended in chaos?  Although, Clint couldn’t exactly blame the Council for the Tracksuit Draculas.  That was mostly because Clint was a trouble magnet.

The constant interruptions and problems were more than just annoying, though.  He and Phil had been out on three wonderful, awesome dates, but that total didn’t look like it was going to rise any time soon.  They were taking it slow, which was not something Clint was all that familiar with, but he liked it.  It was nice not to just fall into bed with someone and hope it didn’t implode spectacularly.  Clint really wanted to get to date number four.  Which would hopefully end up with more make-outs like the ones after he and Phil watched Robin Hood.  Naturally, his hot mess of a life wouldn’t let him.

It really sucked.

“You’re right.  He is too adorable to die.”

Clint squawked, flailing upright.  He got tangled in the blankets for a second, but when freed himself, he caught Natasha laughing at him from the doorway.  Phil hovered behind her, smiling fondly.  Clint glared, and thumped back down on the bed, because it was too early for Natasha’s teasing.

“I’ll go and put some coffee on,” Phil said.

Still grumpy, Clint stared up at the ceiling and wondered if he should be worried that Phil had just invited a vampire into his home.  Not that Natasha would ever hurt Phil, or that Phil knew she was a vampire.  Clint just felt like there should be some sort of acknowledgement.

“Oh, Clint.”  Shaking her head, Natasha pushed herself away from the doorframe and sauntered over to the bed.  “You’re all tangled up in knots, aren’t you?”

“I hate the Council,” Clint told her.  “I really, really do.”

Smiling faintly, Natasha sat down beside him and reached over to brush his hair away from his forehead.  Clint’s eyes flickered half-closed at the touch, and her smile growing, Natasha indulged him by winding her fingers into his hair and scratching gently while Clint just lay there for a moment.  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Clint blew out a sigh.  “There’s something big on the horizon, Tash.  I can feel it.  I just can’t see it well enough to know what’s coming.”

“And it has something to do with what the Council asked you to look into?” Natasha said.

“Yeah.”  Clint bit his lip, glancing up at her.  “Someone is sucking ley lines dry, but no one has seen or heard of any spells that need that kind of power.  Nick tells me there have been sightings of a daemon on the streets, but there’s been no mysterious, weird deaths and no signs of daemonic influence.  It’s enough to creep me out.  Who needs to hoard _that much_ magic, or call a daemon and no let it loose?”

Natasha frowned, her whole face grave.  “You’re right.  It’s all building up to something.  Something big.”

“Yeah.”  Clint sighed again and ran his hand over his face.  “I just hope we don’t get dead trying to stop it.”  He slid his eyes to Natasha.  “Well, more dead for some of us.”

“Haha,” Natasha said flatly and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Clint muttered sulkily.

A quiet knock on the door had Clint glancing up before he could retaliate.  Phil paused in the doorway, holding a tray with a pot of what Clint really hoped was coffee and three mugs.  “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

“No,” Natasha said with a smile.  “You’re fine.”

Stepping inside, Phil set the tray down on the small desk in the corner of his room, and then poured coffee into the mugs.  Clint hummed happily at the rich smell, his eyes sliding shut.  He could almost feel his brain cells waking up already.

Natasha snorted softly and when Clint blinked his eyes open again, she was accepting a mug from Phil.  Smiling when he saw he had Clint’s attention, Phil handed Clint the purple mug in his other hand.  (Clint had the best boyfriend _ever_.)

“I’m afraid if you want anything fancier, we’ll have to go downstairs,” Phil said.

“No, this is good,” Clint replied and buried his face in his mug.

Natasha rolled her eyes before glancing at Phil.  “So… you never told me why Clint ended up sleeping in your bed last night.”

Phil’s ears went pink as he picked up the third mug of coffee.  Natasha eyed him with a smirk.  “I’m guessing it has something to do with that large bruise on your face?”

Phil cleared his throat.  “I, ah.”  He glanced at Clint, frowning slightly.  “I’m not actually sure how to describe it.”

“Phil saved me from being punched in the face by some old friends,” Clint said, because he was did have a certain amount of self-awareness, thank you.  “He was totally badass.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow.  “Old friends?”

Clint shrugged.  “The morons in the awful tracksuits,” he said.

“Ah,” Natasha replied.  She glanced at Phil.  “Thank you for saving him.”

“I could have done it myself,” Clint protested.  He would have saved himself.  He might have ended up bleeding, but he wasn’t completely helpless.

“I was glad to help,” Phil said softly.

Clint stuck his mug in his mouth so he didn’t grin stupidly at that.  When Natasha sent him a knowing smirk, he was pretty sure it hadn’t worked.  A warm feeling spread through Clint’s chest every time Phil mentioned looking out for Clint.  It was nice.  He met Phil’s gaze and grinned at the way Phil’s eyes crinkled at the corners, which almost made Clint spill coffee down his t-shirt.

Natasha snorted.  “Come on,” she said.  “You’ll have to make heart eyes at Phil later.  We need to go talk to Maria.”

For a second, Clint considered refusing and trying to persuade Phil to help him make a blanket fort.  Unfortunately, blanket forts wouldn’t exactly make the best defence against a daemon and whatever else was roaming the city streets.  “Yeah,” he grumbled.  “If I have to.”

Phil smiled.  “Go and solve your case, Clint,” he said.  “I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

And Phil _would_ , which was kind of trippy.  Most people got fed up waiting for Clint to be done with his cases.  Clint smiled.  “Awesome,” he said.

“Shower,” Natasha said, poking him.  “Now.  I’m sure Phil won’t mind if you borrow his bathroom.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Clint grumbled as he reluctantly dragged himself out of Phil’s bed.

When Clint finally stumbled out of the bathroom, now cleaner and dressed in one of Phil’s t-shirts under his hoodie and leather jacket, Phil and Natasha were waiting for him.  Natasha he’d expected, but the large take-out coffee cup in Phil’s hand was a surprise.  Clint blinked.  Natasha had one too, which meant Phil had gone downstairs to make them both coffees while Clint was showering.  He smiled.  Phil smiled back and handed Clint the coffee as Clint walked up.

“I’ll be outside,” Natasha said.  “Clint, if you take longer than five minutes, I’m dragging you out of here by your collar.”’

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint called after her as she left.  He turned back to Phil, suddenly unsure of what to say.  “Um, thanks for the coffee.”

The crinkles around Phil’s eyes deepened.  “You’re welcome,” he replied.  His smile faded as he studied Clint’s face.  “Just… be as careful as you can out there.”

The warm spark underneath Clint’s ribs grew, spreading out.  Clint nodded.  “I promise,” he whispered.

Then, because he was helpless not to, Clint leaned in to press his lips to Phil’s.  By his count, he had at least four minutes of make-out time before Natasha made good on her threat.  He felt Phil smile, even as Phil’s arm slid around his waist to pull him closer.  Gods, kissing Phil was something that would _never_ get old.  Clint wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms forever.

Finally, Clint pulled back enough to rest his forehead against Phil’s.  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” he whispered, not daring to open his eyes yet.

“I know you will,” Phil replied.  “I’m your legal caffeine supplier.”

Clint blinked open his eyes as he stepped back with a huff of laughter.  Phil looked temptingly mussed with his glasses askew and his hoodie rucked up at the waist.  “You’re a lot more than that, Phil,” Clint said, his throat thick.

Reaching out, Phil cupped Clint’s cheek as he smiled softly.  “You should go,” he said.  “Natasha will kick your ass if you keep her waiting much longer.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.  Darting in, he kissed Phil once more, hard and fast.  “I’ll see you later.”

“Feel free to stop by as soon as you’re done,” Phil offered.  “My door’s always open.”

Clint smiled.  “You know, I might just do that”

With a final glance at Phil, Clint forced himself to head down the stairs.  He had a case to untangle and a city to save, and damned if Clint didn’t suddenly have an extra reason to do both as fast as he possibly could.

 

Fin.


End file.
